


Connected Communities

by crushing83



Series: Community Outreach [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Derek goes on sabbatical, Derek is having a hard time, First Meetings, Gen, Post-Season/Series 06, Post-Season/Series 14, Stiles and Isaac are worriers, no explaining how Michael went away, not necessarily season 14 compliant, playing fast and loose with each show's canon, strong possibility of some OOC-ness, teaming up, vague retelling of their histories, vague sharing of their histories, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 22:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: After visiting with Isaac and checking in on Stiles, Derek wants to delay his return to Beacon Hills as long as he possibly can. He stops for a few days in Lebanon, spends time with Sam and Dean, and meets a few more people from the hunters' world.





	Connected Communities

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this to be a one-shot. A two-shot, at most. And then, it got away from me. I'm not sure how I feel about it... but it's done and posted now. I am working on another story, with Sam and Dean meeting someone else, but I keep getting distracted by other things so I don't know if I'll get it finished and posted before NaNoWriMo. Thanks in advance for reading, and let me know what you think if you have the time :) <3
> 
> EDIT: It's been brought to my attention through a few different fronts that I may not be portraying some relationships the way the show has done. I'm going to try to fix that over time, with other instalments; however, please keep in mind that I just don't see those connections the same way many of you do. (And I don't know if I ever will---although I'm committed to trying to understand other views on the subject, so maybe I'll get there.)

Derek looked up at the old brick structure and opened his senses. He couldn't detect much---and it didn't look like much, either. He suspected that was the point of the location, but he still found it worrying that his ears, eyes, and nose couldn't tell him much about the place he was about to enter.

After three days with Isaac in a remote area of Maine and almost a week with Stiles in Virginia, Derek was supposed to head back to California. He was putting that off for as long as possible. Beacon Hills, while home, was starting to feel like a straight-jacket that was one size too small. Being with the pack there chafed in ways he couldn't explain. So, when Sam texted him with a simple _Still alive?_ , he replied with an uncharacteristically long message: _Just making my way West from VA. If you're not off saving the world again, want to meet up?_

An hour later, Sam's response--- _Lebanon, Kansas. When you're close, I'll tell you how to find us. Can you stay a few days? We'll make up a guest room._ \---soothed the irritation he was beginning to feel along his spine and under his fingernails. 

He fired off _Need a few days off-grid_ to Scott and that was that. 

Derek strode down the concrete steps and adjusted his hold on his duffel bag and the case of beer he'd purchased before driving the rest of the way to their base. He was nervous. He wasn't sure why. Argent had nothing but positive things to say about both Sam and Dean, claiming they were true protectors no matter what disaster they were facing. He had seen them both in action. He could even reconcile the student version of Sam with his current self---they shared so many of the same attributes, just demonstrated in different ways, so it was easy---so he didn't know why he felt even a bit of unease. 

Reminding himself that he'd survived more than one disaster himself, Derek inhaled a deep breath and forced himself to knock on the solid steel door. 

It took a few minutes for Dean to answer the door. He looked over Derek, hesitating on the bag before checking his waist (presumably for a weapon) and landing on the beer. When he looked back up into Derek's face, he smirked. 

"Seems you know the secret password," Dean said. "C'mon in." 

Derek followed Dean onto a landing of some sort. It overlooked a room that was a curious mix of old and new technology with a huge map table in the middle. When he inhaled, he scented gunpowder, oil, and leather-bound books, with a variety of other odors underneath. 

"What is this place?" he asked. 

"Home sweet home," Dean replied. "Or, well, one of the Men of Letters' bases of operation until they left the first time. No one had been in it for decades when we got the key. Decided to make it home base, since they designed it to be safe." 

"Yeah," Derek agreed, following Dean down the stairs. "It's pretty protected. I could feel it on the drive up the lane." 

"That was mostly them. They're dicks but they know their shit." 

Derek snorted. He liked Dean. He didn't carry secret agendas. He said what was on his mind. He wasn't intractable. He seemed to value family the way Derek valued pack. 

"So, Mom and Bobby took the other-world-ers out for a week or two, something about fun that didn't involve hunting," Dean said. "There won't be many people around. Cas and Jack are due back today or tomorrow, who knows with them, and Charlie has been nerding out with Sam." 

"Okay." 

At the bottom of the stairs, Dean turned to Derek. "We didn't know if you want to be… out of the closet." 

"Out of the closet?" Derek echoed, feeling his brows furrowing. 

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Cas will know as soon as he sees you, but we've already told him about you, and he's fine with it. But, what do you want us to tell Jack and Charlie?"

"About what?" 

"The fact that you turn into a wolf?" Dean asked. "Jack will be cool. Charlie probably will, too. But, that doesn't matter. It's up to you." 

In the face of that consideration, Derek floundered. He hadn't expected that from either Winchester, which may have been an underestimation of their tact and understanding. 

Dean eased the case of beer out of his grip and smiled. "Think about it while we walk. Gotta put these babies on ice," he said. 

He started walking again, so Derek did, too. Dean took him through to what looked like the start of a library and then through another door and a passage that opened into a kitchen. When Dean took the beer to the fridge, Derek stopped on the other side of the nearby metal table and leaned his hip against it. 

"The drive was okay?" Dean asked. "No hunters chasing you across the country?" 

Derek smiled a bit as he shook his head. "No, it was pretty calm," he said. "I wasn't being run out of town or anything. One of my betas, he's studying psychology. He wants to be a counselor, I guess? My uncle found him a summer job with an emissary who acts as a sort of travelling psychologist. She deals with trauma. We see a lot of trauma." 

"I bet," Dean said, his voice lower than it was the last time he spoke. 

"He'd landed stateside, in Maine. I haven't seen him in a couple years. It was… a reconnecting, I guess, you could call it." 

"If he's your beta…" 

"I gave up my alpha power to save my sister," Derek said, smiling a little more as he thought about Cora. "And when someone close to him died, he needed to leave. Scott… had his hands full. It wasn't a decision I could rule on, and Scott isn't a traditional alpha. So, Isaac left. With Argent, actually. He was safe."

"He's good?" Dean asked. 

Derek replied, "Yeah. Healthy, happy. Worried about current events, but good." 

"So you were there for a couple weeks?" 

Shaking his head, Derek said, "No. After Isaac left again, I went to DC to visit… well, he's Scott's best friend. He's training to be an FBI agent. Which is both problematic and helpful. But, Stiles is a good guy… and he's part of the pack. Didn't feel right going all the way across the country without at least checking in on him." 

Dean nodded without hesitation. "Got it," he said. He smiled a bit. "We're always stopping in places to check on family. Lending a hand. Eating a meal. Touching base. Getting sewn up. The usual." 

"Do you have many in your family?" Derek asked. 

Dean had turned to check a few cupboards, opening and closing their doors as he searched for something, but he paused to look over his shoulder at Derek. "Uh, yeah, we end up… there are people you just take in and consider yours, y'know?" 

Thinking of those who Scott had gathered around himself, and those within (and without) that group who Derek considers part of his life, Derek nodded. "Yeah, of course," he agreed. 

"So, what do you want Charlie and Jack to know?" he asked. 

"If you vouch for them, I'm fine with them knowing the truth," Derek decided. "Don't think I want the rest of your group to know, though. No way to know who's been in contact with any of Monroe's people. If that's… okay with you." 

"Sure, man. C'mon," Dean said as he moved away from the fridge. "Let's go stow your gear and the interrupt the nerdfest downstairs." 

Derek wasn't sure what they'd be interrupting, but he readjusted his hold on his duffel bag and followed Dean out of the kitchen and further into the structure they called their home.

###

They'd walked through what felt like three bunkers' worth of corridors and rooms---although Derek was sure they'd barely scratched the surface of what existed within the structure. He knew he'd be able to find some rooms again from the scent of them or the sound of them; he knew he'd need Sam or Dean to find some of the others, but he didn't think he'd need to find them, either. 

They stopped at a room beyond a dark space that held traces of sulphur in its air. Dean shoved open the door and called out, "Hey, nerds! We've got company!" 

Derek came in as Sam and a redhead Derek assumed was the Charlie Dean had mentioned looked up from behind a stack of boxes and a pile of file folders and papers. Sam's smile was a relief to see---since Derek wasn't sure how he'd be received, even though their recent encounters were more positive than their first---and Charlie's grin would have been something akin to a relief, too, if it weren't for the curious gleam in her eyes. 

Conversing with Stiles taught him that a look like that usually meant discomfort for Derek. 

"Derek, hey, you made it," Sam said as he moved around the boxes. They shared a brief one-armed hug and manly back slap, the way they did every time they met; Derek didn't understand why Sam encouraged physical contact between them, but appreciated it all the same. When he pulled back out of Derek's space, Sam asked, "How was the drive?" 

Derek shrugged. "Fine. Kind of boring. But, I'm glad I didn't have to go back, so thanks for letting me crash here a few days," he replied. He let his gaze flick to Dean. "Both of you." 

"No problem," Sam said, grinning. He turned his body and gestured towards the woman. "Charlie, this is our friend, Derek." 

As she walked towards them, Charlie looked from Derek to Sam to Dean. "New hunter?" she asked. 

Derek opened his mouth to say something---anything---but Dean stopped him with a raised hand. Before Derek could ask him what that was about, Sam leaned in and said, "They're playing a game. Trying to find all the parallels between our world and hers." 

He didn't understand, but he nodded and decided to see how their game would be played. 

"How do you know he's new?" Dean asked. 

"First, he's not sporting any visible scarring. We're all a little banged up. Even Claire has a few and she hasn't been at the gig too long," Charlie said. "Second, I've been here for almost a year now, and I haven't seen Derek once. I've gone on hunts with you two---and your mom---and there's been no sign of him. 

"Third, no weapons stashed on his person. Any hunter who's been at this long enough to be experienced and still alive doesn't go anywhere---even to bed---without at least two," she finished. 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "None of that means he's a new hunter, kiddo," he said. 

"He wasn't in Carver Edlund's books, either," she added. 

Derek turned his head as soon as he heard Sam groan and say, "We have got to get rid of those books." 

"What books?" Derek asked. 

A scent that Derek associated with embarrassment was wafting off of both Sam and Dean. He didn't understand, but experience taught him to wait before trying to push for more information. 

Before he spoke again, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds. "Charlie, those books are like… eight years old now. A lot of people have come and gone---" 

"Six years, if you factor in the allegedly unpublished works I found on Ay-Oh-Three," Charlie interrupted. "And you guys don't make a lot of friends. It took you how many years and near-death experiences to admit that Cas is your bro?" 

"Charlie---" 

Charlie interrupted him again. "Oh, please. Don't even. This guy---" she said, gesturing at Derek "---is not in the books. He'd definitely be 'dark and broody.' You're 'tortured' or 'devastated' or 'drunk.' And sometimes 'flippant.' Sam is 'determined.' 'Hopeful.' Oh, and Cas is always 'thoughtful' or 'perplexed.' There's no one like him. Ergo, he's new." 

"We have got to get rid of those damned books," Dean muttered. 

Sam nodded. 

"What books?" Derek asked again. 

"Oh! Man! You don't know about the _Supernatural_ series?" Charlie asked, bouncing a little on her feet. Derek shook his head. She beamed at him. "So! For a while, Heaven and Hell were all up in arms, and trying to suck these two into their melodrama---which ended up turning out soooo much better for this reality than mine---and this guy was writing their lives, like step by step. People have been reading this books and thinking they're fiction! Cas told them Chuck was a prophet and he's been writing the Winchester Gospel---like John or Luke or Genesis or whatever---" 

Derek did not understand. 

"---but then! They met Chuck later, and apparently, he's God! Like capital-effing-Gee God!" 

Derek _really_ did not understand. 

"Y'know, I never expected you to enjoy this story so much," Dean said. "A version of his douchey sons ruined your world." 

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, I know. But, that story is just… like, he wants front row seats to big events? He likes to mingle with his creations! I'm not super religious, because angels are the suck---except for your Cas, _duh_ \---but, there's just something about that story. Like, how did Joan Osborne know, y'know?!"

In an attempt to make sense of everything he'd just heard, Derek said, "So, God is real, he goes by Chuck, and he wrote books about your lives because they're supposed to be… Bible stories?" 

Sam clapped a hand to Derek's shoulder and squeezed. "It's a lot to take in, huh?" he asked. Derek nodded. He couldn't hear deception in the beating of their hearts; he couldn't quite believe what they were saying, though, either. Sam smiled easily and kindly, like he knew Derek was still struggling, and he said, "I know, man. It's nuts. But, on the plus side, there aren't any more books, so you don't have to worry about showing up in one." 

"So, he is a new hunter!" Charlie crowed. 

After looking from her back to Derek, Sam arched an eyebrow. Derek guessed he was silently asking if it was fine with him to reveal his identity, so he nodded. 

"Well, Charlie, as the referee in your little game, I have to say, he's not a new hunter," Sam said. He grinned as he turned back to look at her. "He's… a friend. And not completely new. And a werewolf." 

"Wait… what?" Charlie asked, startled. Derek braced himself for negativity; he was completely rocked with surprise when she grinned and put her hands on his face. "Do you go all 'grrrr' like the others? Does it only happen on the full moon? Do you have heightened senses? You obviously don't eat human hearts because Dean would shoot your ass, so what do you eat?" 

Sam's sigh was tinged with laughter when it escaped his lips. "Charlie---" 

"What? In our world all the other supernaturals went rabid when the angels and demons destroyed it," Charlie said. "I've never met a werewolf who could talk! Who didn't want to rip me to shreds!" 

Derek could feel the heat in his face rising. He'd never done well being the centre of attention; Charlie's enthusiasm was sincere and open and honest, at least, but it didn't make the sensation of being studied any easier to bear. 

He fully intended to ignore her questions. The more he noticed the way she almost vibrated with excitement, though, the more he felt his resolve crumbling. 

"When I shift, for fun, I usually just run around," Derek said. "Sometimes I'll chase deer or other prey animals. I don't eat human hearts. I never have." 

"Do you have a pack?" Charlie asked. "Garth says it's easier when you have a pack." 

Thinking of Scott's pack made that chafing feeling return. He couldn't rub it away; it was under his skin. He rolled his shoulders, in hopes of pushing the irritation back, and forced himself to smile. 

"I'm a born wolf, so I don't have the same impulses some bittens do," Derek explained. "And, yeah, I have a… pack. I'm just not with them that much." 

Charlie's glee faded into a puzzled frown. "Isn't that hard?" 

"Sometimes," Derek said. He shrugged and jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. In a burst of honesty, he admitted, "Sometimes it's harder to be with them." 

"A family thing?" she asked. 

"Sort of, yeah," Derek said, his voice soft.

She smiled. "Well, you're here, so you must be well on your way to joining this family, too," she said. She nudged him as she passed, hesitating only to playfully punch Dean in his shoulder. "C'mon, Winchester, you promised you were gonna make your awesome burgers tonight! Let's get started!" 

Derek stared after them and continued to stare out into the corridor long after they disappeared from sight. He could hear Charlie asking Dean questions---about how they met Derek, about why Derek was there, and about who else knew they were friends with another werewolf---and Dean was being discrete and even close-lipped through his answers. 

"Sorry about her," Sam said, pulling his attention back into the room. When Derek raised his eyebrows in silent question, Sam added, "She can be a little intense." 

Not liking the way Sam's scent took on a tinge of anxiety, Derek smiled to put him at ease. "It's fine. Really," Derek said. "She's curious. And excitable. But she seems honest and kind." 

Sam's lips quirked into a small smile. "She is. Both versions." 

Not for the first time since hearing Sam's and Dean's story about travelling to another version of the world, Derek wondered how he'd feel if he had the chance to meet another version of his mother or father or siblings---or anyone else who had been ripped from his life. He didn't know how Sam and Dean handled the comings and goings 

"Is that hard? Having her back?" Derek asked. 

"It is. And it isn't. It's harder to remember she's not she same person than having her here, if that makes sense," Sam replied. 

It did make sense, in a strange way. Derek nodded. 

"Is there anything you want to do while you're here?" Sam asked. "There aren't many tourist traps around town, but we could find a ghost or something if you wanted some action." 

The idea of going on a ghost hunt for fun made Derek chuckle. "Honestly? I just want a few days off the grid and a break from… everything," he confessed. "Give me a couple good books and some running trails, and I'd consider it a great vacation." 

Sam's smile morphed into a grin. "Well, that, I can do. Would you mind if I joined you on your runs?" 

"You… want to go running with me?" Derek asked. 

"If it's a solo thing for you, that's fine," Sam said quickly, as soon as Derek stopped talking. "Just… Dean thinks exercise is a waste of time, Cas doesn't need to exercise, and Jack gets distracted by _every_ single thing he sees. I might not be able to keep up, but it would be nice to start and end with someone for once." 

There was no trace of deception in or on Sam. Derek wasn't sure he understood. They'd been friendly, their recent interactions had been pleasant; Derek was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for their past to cause more friction. 

"At the risk of sounding like a teenaged girl, why are you so nice to me, when I was a---" 

"It's totally weirding you out, huh?" Sam teased. He chuckled when Derek nodded; he grinned when Derek shifted his weight. "Man, life's too short to hold grudges. We've both changed, we've both grown up. Maybe we can be friends now." 

"Now that we have a bit more in common?" Derek suggested. 

"Yeah. Whaddya say? Friends?" Sam asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

Derek snorted. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said. 

Sam clapped his hand around Derek's upper arm. "Great. Now, you want to go looking around this place some more or do you want to check on Dean and Charlie and the burgers?" 

"Are they… beef burgers?" 

"Dean wouldn't have any other kind." 

After letting a relieved groan escape, Derek said, "Thank god. Stiles… usually he eats… well, like one of us, but he was in the middle of a culinary experiment, to put it kindly. The last burger I had was---" 

"Turkey?" 

"I wish. Vegetable patty," Derek said, a disgusted growl slipping into his voice. 

"And he lives?" Sam asked on a laugh. 

Derek nodded, smiling a bit. "He owes me big and he knows it," he said. "His big sad eyes weren't enough to get him off the hook this time." 

Sam laughed again. When the happy sound faded, he suggested they head to the kitchen. Derek agreed and followed him out into the corridor. 

As the sulphuric scent reached his nose again, he pointed into the shadows and asked, "What is in there? All I can smell is rotten eggs." 

Sam's mouth curved into a strange half-smile-half-frown expression. "That's our dungeon. It's been where we hold a demon for questioning," he replied. "No one's in there now, don't worry. It's been a while since we've needed it." 

"This place has a dungeon," Derek muttered. "Why am I not surprised?" 

With another laugh, Sam headed towards the stairs.

#####

Keeping pace with Sam was enjoyable. His long legs and good health were a good match for Derek if he refrained from pushing himself with his wolfish abilities. They didn't talk much, which suited Derek just fine, and running without being chased reminded him of why he did better when he was surrounded by a forest. 

On their second day and their second run, though, the urge to slip his skin tingled along his nerves and settled in the back of his skull. They stopped at a clearing, to stretch and breathe and take in their surroundings, and Derek decided he would take the risk and ask Sam if he'd be all right with him shifting. It had been too long since he'd run as a fully-shifted wolf. 

As soon as he asked, Sam grinned and nodded. His grin morphed into an expression of embarrassment when Derek started removing his clothes; Derek chuckled and tossed his shorts and t-shirt at Sam's quickly-turned back before dropping to all fours and allowing the change to take over his body. 

"Der---oh my god!" 

Derek looked up at Sam. His vision might be less saturated in his wolf form, but he could clearly read Sam's shock and amazement through his eyes, ears, and nose. He nodded his head twice, more for Sam than anything else, and then he pointedly looked at the clothes by Sam's feet. 

"I… I guess you want me to carry this stuff back?" Sam asked. When Derek nodded again, Sam smiled and raised his hands. "May I… I mean, I know you're not a dog---" he stopped talking and laughed when Derek huffed out a loud breath "---but I've never seen a werewolf shift this much before. Could I touch you? Just your neck?" 

Derek walked softly, slowly across the grass and moss. He understood the curiosity. When he'd confessed the ability to Isaac, he'd been bombarded with questions. Scott and Stiles had had questions, too, when they'd had time to talk about _normal_ things in their lives. Malia had been the only one to understand, since she had lived for so long as a fully-shifted coyote and could still change that much when stressed or scared. He understood that showing Sam what he could do would mean piquing his inquisitive nature. As long as he was able to run, after a cursory inspection, he could endure a little poking and prodding. 

Sam's hand was a warm weight on the side of his neck. As if he knew better, Sam didn't lean over Derek or try to hold him. Instead, he crouched down and made sure to keep enough space between them. 

"This is amazing," Sam murmured. "You're real." 

Derek snorted loudly. Sam laughed. 

"I know, I know. But this is like... you're a skinwalker. We've met people who can turn into dogs, but this..." 

Displeased with being likened to those beings---or the women warriors who travelled with the sands of time---Derek let a low growl escape his throat. 

"Sorry, sorry. You're very much a werewolf. A powerful one. With... manly, non-dog fur." 

Derek hoped his desire to roll his eyes translated into his lupine face and features. The way Sam ducked his head to hide a smile suggested something of his message had been heard. 

"All right, I'm done for now. But I know I'm going to have questions later," Sam said. He let his smile settle into his face as he looked into Derek's eyes. Amusement seemed to radiate off of him all of a sudden. "If you tell Charlie, she might make you reenact some of her favourite direwolf scenes from Game of Thrones, so... I'll leave it up to you if you want to  
tell her how much you can shift." 

He understood the words; he did not understand what it would mean to _do_ a reenactment. 

Instead of spending too much time trying to sort out that potential situation, he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight between his four paws. 

"Ready to run?" Sam asked when he had Derek's shirt and shorts in his hands. Derek huffed loudly and bounced on the spot. "Are you giving me a head start?" 

Feeling more playful than he ever did in a very long time, Derek extended one front leg and bowed down. Sam laughed, rolled his head from side to side, inhaled, and ran. 

Derek watched his progress along the path as he paced one way and then the other. Sam was loud pretend pray, but his inner (and outer, at the moment) wolf was looking forward to chasing him down. When Sam disappeared from sight, Derek cocked his ears and took off at a slow, noisy lope. He wanted to play; he wanted Sam to hear him first, before he disappeared into the trees. 

When the sound of Derek's paws caught up with Sam, Derek could hear him laugh and put on a bit more speed. He increased his own speed for a few seconds, using the force in his stride to push him into a jump over a ditch and then he disappeared into the woods; his predatory skills took over and he used the forest to the best of his ability, all the while still tracking Sam's progress along the running path. 

His wolf was disappointed there wouldn't be a meal at the end of the chase, but Sam's willingness to run ahead and play prey was something both the wolf and human sides of psyche appreciated. 

With every step Derek took through the brush, Sam's breathing and footfalls grew louder. He could smell his and Sam's sweat. Sam had slowed to a more reasonable pace, something that Derek had predicted when his approach quieted. Instead of jogging casually, though, his head was on a swivel; he was used to being the hunter and the hunted and he was doing what he could to stay aware of Derek's presence. 

The path opened wider. Derek could see the back of the bunker through the trees. 

It was time. 

With a _yip-yip-yip_ to signal his approach (and to give Sam a bit of warning, because even if he had a good hunter's reflexes he still deserved a head's up), Derek released his grip on his restraint and patience and _thundered_ through the trees and brush. 

Parallel with Sam, he yipped again---and again when he heard Sam's breathless laugh. There were other scents overlaying the ones Derek registered as Sam; they were getting close to the opening of the trail. He lowered his head as he moved through the last of the brush and pushed his body to run until he felt the burn in his muscles. 

And then he leapt. 

Sam squawked as Derek pushed him into a patch of taller grass. In response, Derek panted, feeling very satisfied that he caught his prey. 

"You are heavy, man!" Sam groaned. 

For an instant, Derek felt the impulse to lean in and lick the back of Sam's sweaty neck. He refrained, thinking that was the sort of action best held between pack, and then he realised that he wouldn't do that with his current pack. None of the other wolves in Beacon Hills were _his_ in a way that he could trust completely; he wasn't _theirs_ in a way that they could trust completely. 

The thought made him sad. It made his wolf want to whine. 

To keep himself from turning completely maudlin, he snuffled along the back of Sam's neck. Sam's laugh chased away the sadder feelings. When he jumped off of Sam and grabbed his clothes between his teeth, he felt a little better for, as he imagined Stiles would say, having loosened the stick lodged in his ass.

#####

When Dean's and Sam's mother called and said they were extending their adventure to go to a water park---a surprising location, according to Dean, which prompted jokes about their friend Bobby in a trucker's cap and a banana hammock which Derek didn't need to hear even though he wouldn't know Bobby if he walked into him---Derek asked if he could stay for another day or two. 

He missed being around other werewolves. But, he didn't miss the irritating sensation under his skin that came from being with the pack. 

Two days became four. Derek brushed off Scott's texts, ignoring them at first, and then sending him back a message he knew would be interpreted as terse: _I'm fine. I need some time. I'll tell you when I'm on my way._

He knew it didn't help with the mutual trust, but he couldn't help it. He grew up in a pack. He knew pack hierarchy and order like he knew the back of his hands, claws, and paws. The alpha should be respected and trusted, wholeheartedly. For the most part, he did trust and respect Scott. But, every so often, especially since returning from his escapades across the continent, that irritation built up and he wanted to be anywhere else but home trying to serve his alpha. 

On the fourth day, his phone started ringing with a call when he and Sam were spending some time in Dean's man cave---a relaxing room with a ridiculous name. Expecting Scott, he sighed before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

He was pleasantly surprised when he saw Stiles' name flashing across his screen---and then he worried. 

"Stiles? Is everything all right?" he asked when he answered the call. 

_"I was gonna ask you the same thing, Crankypants,"_ Stiles replied. _"Scott says you're AWOL."_

Derek sighed again. "I just need some time," he said. 

Stiles snorted. _"Dude, you need like a full-blown spa weekend and a never-ending margarita."_

"Don't call me 'dude.'" 

From the next armchair, Sam snorted. Derek shared a small smile with him before returning his focus to his phone call. Stiles was talking, working himself into quite a ramble. 

_"---and if 'dude' is off the table, then that doesn't leave many options. We could go back to 'Sour Wolf,' if you like, but I have a feeling that one's gonna be nixed, too,"_ Stiles chattered. _"I've been working on a few cuddlier options, because really, you don't scare me that much. Honestly, I think you should chill out and just let me call you what I feel like calling you. You're all the way over in wherever you are, and I'm at Quantico for the near future. What can you do to me? Glare at me? Maybe that would be impressive if you knew how to FaceTime---"_

His first instinct was to laugh, but he didn't want to give Stiles the satisfaction. Thankful that Stiles couldn't see his smile, he let his mouth curve and stretch before he spoke. "You know you still owe me for feeding me those veggie burgers, right?" he asked. 

_"I needed to test them on an appreciator of the meat. Dad won't cut back and I'm trying to, y'know, keep him alive longer,"_ Stiles replied. 

"I understand that, but will it actually be longer or will it just _feel_ longer?" Derek said. 

Stiles sighed loudly in Derek's ear. _"And for that complete lack of support, I'm calling you 'Der Bear.'"_

"'Der Bear?'" Derek echoed. He frowned as Sam burst out laughing. "You really don't understand our… friendship, do you?" 

_"I don't think_ you _understand our bond at all, Der Bear,"_ Stiles said in response. _"Now, why aren't you going back? Just between us, I promise. From one brother to another less handsome, more scowl-y brother."_

After a little chuckle, Derek decided to try a bit of honesty. "I need time away," he admitted. "Sometimes, lately, it's hard to be in Beacon Hills." 

_"I get that. Sometimes it's hard for me, too,"_ Stiles said, his voice quickly turning quiet and serious. _"It's part of why I went back to give this trainee thing another try. I mean, sure, it could be helpful, maybe picking up leads on the crazy hunters, but really, the idea of getting out and being_ me _was more appealing. I miss everyone, but I like figuring out who I am away from them, too."_

Derek regretted that he didn't say anything about how he'd been feeling when he was with Stiles. If only he'd trusted him, maybe they could have talked face to face. 

"When I was on my…" 

_"Sabbatical?"_

Derek chuckled. "Yeah. That. It was… similar," he said. "I was lost for a long time. It took a while to figure out some stuff." 

_"I noticed you're less growly,"_ Stiles said. _"Less mopey, too. But you still scowl a lot."_

"Some things will never change, Stiles," Derek promised. 

Stiles laughed, a short burst of amusement, and then he said, _"Thank god for that. I couldn't handle it if you turned into a completely different person. I need a little familiarity, pal."_

"I've got your back." 

Once he let loose a quiet sound of happiness, Stiles asked, _"So, where are you, anyway? Where does the great Derek Hale go when he needs a little solo time?"_

"Kansas." 

_"Seriously?"_

"Yes, seriously," Derek replied. "I'm with the hunters Argent brought on to help." 

_"Oh yeah. Scottie said you knew one of them."_

Derek glanced at Sam, who had returned to reading his book. "Yeah, we… knew each other from university," he admitted. 

_"Knew? Or_ knew _?"_ Stiles asked. _"Please tell me you used your patented broody stare on him and he swooned just like everyone does around you."_

Even the memory of how horrible they'd been to each other didn't stand a chance against Stiles' ridiculous words. Derek snorted. 

"No, I didn't use my 'patented broody stare' on him. No, he didn't swoon. Seriously, Stiles? My life isn't a romance novel. What do you think I do all day?" 

_"Brood. Seduce people into your bed. And run through the woods all wolfed out,"_ Stiles replied. _"Oh, and a surprising number of pull-ups, probably, right? Maybe some scowling out the window as you dab sweat off your---"_

"Okay, enough. I'm sorry I asked," Derek said as Sam kept his eyes on his book and failed to smother his chuckle. 

_"How many of those were right?"_ Stiles asked. 

"Not telling," Derek growled. 

_"Oooh, the growly-growl voice. Shiver me timbers,"_ Stiles teased. 

"Can I hang up now or do you want to torture me some more?" Derek asked. 

_"No, no, not yet! Before you go, is there anything I can tell Scott_ if _he asks?"_ Stiles said. _"I won't tell him what you told me, obviously. We're bros, too, ya know? I've got your back, no matter if it's furry or waxed or whatever. And there's a really good chance he won't ask me for any insight, but in case he does…"_

"Tell him I'm seeing someone." 

_"In Kansas? C'mon, dude, you know he won't buy that. You are too good-looking to be wasted on a Kansas ten."_

Derek winced. "Uh… thanks?" 

Unfazed, Stiles continued talking. _"You're welcome. So. Any better excuses?"_

"What about I'm just an uptight, jaded werewolf and I need some time away from the kids?" Derek suggested. 

_"That I can sell,"_ Stiles said. _"You're, uh, you're taking care of yourself, right?"_

"You saw me last week. Didn't I pass inspection?" 

_"Well, yeah, but, you know me. Worrier. Constant."_

Derek smiled a little. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. You're a good guy, Stiles. I'll call you in a few days, okay?" 

_"Yeah, okay. Be safe out there."_

"You, too," he said before ending the call and tucking his device back into his pocket. 

When he looked up again, he saw Sam watching him. He shifted uncomfortably under Sam's gaze. He managed to hold out for one whole minute before he broke their silence. 

"Spit it out," Derek muttered. 

Sam snorted. Then, he said, "That was Stiles? The guy you visited in Virginia?" A moment after Derek nodded, Sam smiled. "You two seem to have a good friendship." 

"He irritates me." 

Sam laughed. "You let him. It's your thing, right?" 

Derek's stern expression melted into a small smile of his own. "Sort of," he admitted. "Sometimes, he really does irritate me. Sometimes, it's… I enjoy him trying to push my buttons." 

"He's not like the others?" Sam asked. 

"Well, he's human," Derek replied. "He's Scott's best friend, he ended up helping him with the change better than I could, when he was first bitten. They were always a packaged deal. He's smart. Really good at putting the puzzle pieces together. He's saved my life a few times. He's been through a lot… he's had to grow up faster than he should have." 

Sam nodded. "A lot of people in… interesting lives, they're cursed with that." 

"You, too?" 

"I grew up a hunter, on the road. Dean was four when Mom died and I was just a baby. When Dad figured out it was _something else_ he took us on the road with him, from job to job," Sam explained. "When we were young, Dean… he never had a childhood. He was always taking care of me. I'll never be able to repay him for that." He paused and looked away from Derek for a few seconds. Then, his lips curled into a wry smile as he turned back. "When I found out what Dad really did… when they started training me… I was never the same." 

"You got out, though," Derek said. "You weren't hunting at Stanford." 

Sam shook his head. "No, you're right. I got out. I was basically disowned, but I got out. Just for a few years. Dean pulled me back in when Dad went missing." 

In light of that information, Derek understood Sam's attitude back then a bit better. He nodded. "That must have been difficult, growing up like that," he said. "Do you ever think about… trying to go back and have a normal life?" 

"I tried once. Dean was in Purgatory. I thought he was dead. I was alone and just… not in a good place," Sam replied. "And I latched onto an attempt at normalcy like it would save me. It didn't." 

Derek frowned. "You seem… good now. Steady, I mean." 

"I am. More than I used to be," Sam agreed, smiling. He tilted his head. "How about you? I like having you here, don't get me wrong, and I think you've won over Dean which is huge, but it seems like you're avoiding going back to Beacon Hills. Even Stiles picked up on it, didn't he?" 

"Maybe." 

"So, what's up, _Der Bear_?" 

Derek growled. Sam grinned in response. 

"You two are never meeting," Derek declared. 

"Never say never, dude."

Irritation gave way to amusement. Derek smiled. Before Sam could say anything else, Derek said, "Seriously, though, if you two end up in the same place, tell me so I can steer clea---"

"Sam. Derek." 

Sam's laughter came from his gut as Derek flinched out of his seat. He was a born werewolf. He had faced alpha packs, hunters, evil fox spirits, and hordes of assassins without so much as a visible twitch, and it was a freaking angel of the lord who made him act like he was a pup again. Castiel seemed like a nice enough guy, but something about the way he inhabited his vessel _fucked_ with his senses in a way nothing ever had. He couldn't smell or hear Castiel the way he could hear anyone else; Castiel would simply appear and remind Derek with a shock that angels were not like anything else he'd ever encountered. 

"Hey, Cas," Sam said, as Castiel watched Derek settle into a calmer stance. "What's up?" 

"We've returned with the pizza." 

"Great. Anything else?" 

"A few of the people from the other side of the rift have returned," Castiel said. "Bobby came with them." 

"What does he mean?" Derek asked Sam after Castiel nodded and walked back down the hall towards the main living area of the bunker. "Am I in danger or something?" 

Sam smiled and shook his head. "Nah, it'll be fine. Cas has a tendency to make everything sound... dire," Sam explained. "We're used to it. Charlie, Cas, and Jack know the deal. They're inner circle. The others... not quite." 

"I thought Bobby was---" 

"He is. He was, I mean. But, even our version of Bobby... he didn't like us befriending... y'know..." 

"Monsters," Derek supplied. 

Sam sighed. "That's not what I said." 

"But, it's what he'd say," Derek said. Just because he was used to humans treating him and his ilk as something beneath them didn't mean he accepted or liked it. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Are you sure it's okay for me to be here? I can just---" 

"We're getting pizza. You can leave tonight if you want or you can stay until you're ready to go back," Sam insisted. "They don't all live here anymore, and we'll stick to the truth." 

"The truth?" Derek echoed. 

Sam smiled. "That you're someone from my Stanford days," he said, slinging an arm around Derek's shoulders and all-but-pulling him out of the room. "Pizza, Derek! And then a movie!" 

"You're a good date, Sam," Derek teased. "You gonna walk me to my door, too?" 

His lame attempt at a joke was worth it when Sam laughed and pushed him down the corridor. "Just for that, I'm not gonna put out after dinner!" Sam shot back.

###

Once Dean stopped teasing him and Sam and Bobby stopped giving Derek the best hairy-eyeball he'd ever seen since the reign of Talia Hale, dinner was almost a pleasant affair. 

It would have been completely enjoyable, but he was _ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine percent_ sure one of the other-worlders recognised him. Before Sam could even introduce him, her eyes were wider and her heart was beating more quickly than it should have been beating. There was no scent of anger or fear wafting around her. Derek knew it would take a lot before she'd be scared of him, after everything she'd faced in her reality; scent wouldn't be an accurate evidentiary source for him. 

"So." 

Derek looked up from his bottle of beer and smiled a bit at Bobby. "Yes, sir?" 

Bobby grimaced. "Oh, stop with that nonsense now, for cryin' out loud," he insisted, earning a wider smile from Derek. "How long have you known Sam and Dean?" 

"I knew Sam... back when he was in college," Derek said. "We reconnected recently. Mutual hunter friends." 

He would have liked Bobby if the older man didn't make him feel as if he were being examined. He also would have liked if Dean or Sam stepped in, but they were talking with Jack and Charlie. Even Castiel's interruption would have been welcome, but he was watching Dean and Jack with a much-too-serious expression on his face. 

"What do you think of these hunters teaming up?" Bobby asked. "That's why you got back in touch, I'm guessing…"

"I think it's disgusting to try to wipe out families and hunt down kids and any other survivors when all they've done is try to exist in peace," Derek said, the truth of his feelings winning the advantage over any shred of diplomacy he possessed. "I've seen what they can do. I've seen what they do to each other. There is _no_ honour in what they're doing." 

"What about the ones who are killing people?" 

"What about the ones who are completely alone, with no anchor, because a mob is chasing them and separating them from their pack?" Derek shot back. "They may do things because they have nothing---or because they honestly don't know better, in pain or grief or fear." 

"Not all of them are saints, boy." 

Derek bristled at being called 'boy' by someone who knew _nothing_ of his life or what he'd survived and endured. 

"First, if you think the packs don't do their own ruling on misbehavior---" 

"Misbehavior!" Bobby barked, laughing. 

"---then you're delusional. It's bad for the pack if a rogue is hunting in its territory. It's in their best interest to put a stop to it," Derek continued. "If a pack doesn't---or can't---then fine, bring on a hunter. But these mobs are killing people just because they're different. It doesn't matter if they're good or bad. They're waging a war against an alpha who never killed to gain his power. They're just killing because they like killing." 

Derek's rant had drawn everyone else's attention to him. 

"I think it's great that you're trying to protect these people," Jack said. He smiled, looking and smelling like sunshine. "It's what hunters should do. Protect people who can't protect themselves." 

"That's actually our mutual friend's motto," Derek said, thinking of Argent. 

"And if you get these people to a stable pack, they learn how to be stable, too, right?" Jack asked. 

Derek nodded. "If they want to learn, yeah," he replied. "They have to be willing, obviously, but even just being in a good environment makes a difference. It's the contributing and opening up to the pack bond that helps even more." 

He thought of Peter after he finished speaking. Peter had been a good uncle---a little meddlesome and manipulative, sure, but Derek assumed that was a result of Talia earning her red eyes before he did when they were still young. The coma and resulting madness had not done his personality any favours. Over time, though, Derek saw more changes in Peter than he thought possible. Being one of Beacon Hills protectors, learning who his daughter was becoming, and acting as institutional memory for Scott's pack had done wonders for his behaviour. He was an example of the influence a pack could have on a dangerous mind. 

"You know a lot about werewolf packs," Bobby said. "You spend time with 'em, then, more than picking up the odd stray." 

"Gonna start tailing me around the country to kill my friends?" Derek asked. 

Bobby smirked. "Maybe…" 

"You think I haven't learned how to lose nosy hunters already?" 

"Okay, this has gone on long enough," Dean said, pushing himself up out of his chair. "Bobby, this is our home, Derek is our guest---our friend---and you are going to stop. You aren't going to hunt him or his friends. Chill out." 

"You don't want to hunt a bunch of werewolves?" Bobby asked. 

"Quite frankly, no. Sammy and I have a strict 'hunting evil only' policy. If you have a problem with that, then you know where the door is," Dean replied, crossing his arms and puffing up his chest. "We decided not to get sucked into another psychotic group's mission after we finished with the Men of Letters bullshit. I don't care how noble they think their cause is. We can think for ourselves, and we've made our decision." 

Sam backed up Dean's words by nodding and moving to a chair beside Derek. Castiel and Jack remained where they were, watching the conversation progress. Derek wondered if that was all angels and their kin did, watch (and creep), but then Bobby cleared his throat and he moved his focus back where it had been. 

"Hold your horses, idjit," Bobby grumbled. "I'm just trying to get the measure of your man here." 

"You think we'd bring someone here who we couldn't trust?" Sam asked. 

"I have my people to think about, too, Sam," Bobby replied. 

"Well, some of your people have already met with Monroe's people," Derek said. 

Sam turned towards him. "Really? How do you know?" 

"One of them recognised me. It could've been something else, but she didn't… she didn't give off any signs of positive interest. Not necessarily negative interest, either," Derek explained, reaching for his beer. "But it was recognition. Unless she's from my hometown---which she can't be---or unless she worked for the FBI a year or so ago---again, impossible---then they only way she recognised me was because someone showed her who I am." 

Dean sighed. "Damn it." 

"It doesn't mean she's on their side," Derek reminded him. "It just means she was approached. But. Be careful. Helping my people doesn't do you any favours with Monroe." 

"I stand by what I said," Dean said as he took another seat. "No more psychos. Sammy got his foot melted, we were both tortured, good people were killed. I'm done." 

"Who was it?" Bobby asked Derek. "The one who recognised you?" 

"She was… short. Petite. Red hair. Grey eyes, I think?" Derek said. 

"Maya Sunder," Bobby confirmed, nodding. "She holds grudges but---" 

"Sunder?" Castiel inquired. 

With another nod, Bobby said, "Yeah. She's one of my best researchers. Knows a lot about angels. Could speak fluent Enochian. Even tricked a small squadron into believing she was one of them with a few little magic tricks. Said she learned it all from her mother, who learned it from her mother, and so on." 

Sam's face scrunched, as if he were in deep thought. "Did… did we meet someone---" 

"Lily," Cas said, interrupting again. 

Derek watched as comprehension dawned on both Dean and Sam. There was history there, with the family, in both worlds. Derek didn't understand how they kept it all straight. 

"Who is Lily?" Jack asked. 

"Someone from my past whose life was ruined by angels, myself included," Cas said. "We are not all-knowing. And angels can deceive people and their brothers and sisters. Learning the truth about Lily was a hard lesson for me to learn. I will carry that burden with me for the rest of my life." He paused and reached for Jack, clasping his shoulder under his hand. "I hope you do not have to learn the same way I have." 

The way Jack's scent shifted, from calm to anxious, suggested to Derek that he'd already learned a few heavy lessons of his own. 

Bobby coughed once, quietly. "Anyway. I don't want to see my people hurt… and I know they're killing hunters who disobey or fail," he said. "I'll keep an eye on Maya." 

"What if Monroe approaches you?" Derek asked. 

"I haven't survived this long only to hop on someone else's vendetta train," Bobby told him. 

"So… all of that, earlier…" 

Bobby smiled. "Just wanted to get a read on you." 

Derek sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, tension leaking from him slowly but not completely. Their conversation had given him a feel for what sort of man Bobby could be, too. He knew when---not if---Bobby discovered _what_ he was, there would be a problem. Bobby would likely perceive his actions as a betrayal. 

The _hot_ burn of anger flared from Sam for a brief moment. When Derek looked past him to Dean, he sensed something similar enough to be related---seething frustration. Derek made eye contact with Castiel, whose furrowed brow provided no clues, and then he turned his attention back to Bobby. 

He didn't understand. He wasn't going to ask, either---at least not in front of Bobby. 

Before anyone could reach for an awkward segue, Charlie bounced into the room and stole Bobby's hat before giving them all some display of affection. As she rounded the table to reach Derek, Bobby stole his hat back, grumbling about adults acting like children, but no one really paid him any attention. She cupped Derek's face in her hands and grinned at him. 

"You wanna stop being a crankypants and come hang out?" she asked. 

"What does 'hang out' mean?" Derek asked in response. 

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Paint our nails. Girl talk. Maybe watch a movie. C'mon. Up and at 'em!" 

At Derek's side, Sam managed to smile. "You better go, man. She's relentless." 

His reluctance was an act---and it wasn't at the same time. He was eager to get away from Bobby and the confusing reactions emanating from Sam and Dean, but he was not eager to have any sort of bonding time with Charlie. While she was funny and smart, she was _curious_ and she'd had her sights set on Derek ever since he revealed his truth to her. 

Despite his internal conflict, he allowed Charlie to pull him out of his chair and down the hall. He felt a bit better, away from whatever was happening in the other room, and he felt even better when Charlie quietly explained that she'd been listening from outside the door and felt he deserved a break. 

"He kept a lot of us alive longer than we should have lived on the other side of the rift," Charlie explained, once they were in her room and she started rummaging through a box on her dresser. "But, sometimes he's a little too overprotective and overbearing for over here. Before Mary took him and the others exploring, he'd been throwing his weight around. Sam and Dean have a hard time---because he's so like _their_ Bobby, but he's not the same guy---and they don't know how to fix it."

She straightened up and held out two tiny glass bottles. "Blue or green?" she asked. 

"Huh?" 

"For your toes!" Charlie exclaimed. When Derek continued to blink at her, his horror at having any sort of polish on any of his nails shocking him into silence, she rolled her eyes. "I think green," she mused. "Will match your eyes better." 

"When will anyone be looking at my toes and my eyes at the same time?" Derek asked. 

Charlie grinned. "Well, I don't like to pry into what you like to do in your free time," she teased. 

Despite his discomfort, he snorted. "Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate that," he murmured. 

Her grin softened. "So, don't let what was going in there bug you," she said. "It wasn't about you. It was about Bobby not knowing he's not in charge anymore." 

"When you've been fighting and leading for that long, can you back off?" Derek asked. 

"Well, I'm trying. I'll probably get back into hunting. Or something else adjacently helpful, at least," she replied. "For now, though? I'm really enjoying stuff like this," she added, holding up the bottles of nail polish. "We did not have nail polish over there." 

"I can't imagine," Derek said. 

"So, boots and socks off, Mister Hale," Charlie insisted. 

One look into her face and he realised that Charlie wasn't going to let him escape. 

Derek groaned and bent over to unlace his boots.

#####

"Derek?" 

At Jack's quiet query, Derek set down his reading---a treatise the Men of Letters had written about pack structure, only because he'd been curious to see how accurate their conclusions were---and looked towards the open doorway. He smiled. 

"What can I do for you, Jack?" he asked. 

"I have some questions," Jack said, coming into the room. He walked around the table and chose the chair next to Derek. "Would you mind… I know you're reading, but---" 

"It's no problem," Derek interjected. He liked Jack. He was both complicated and uncomplicated at the same time and that did mess with Derek's perception a bit, but he was also a kind, warm soul. Jack didn't carry the burden of hidden agendas; he didn't carry prejudices. Everyone was equal to him, as long as they weren't doing harm to others, and Derek really liked that about Jack's perspective on the world. He angled his body towards Jack and made sure he was still smiling. "What do you want to know?" 

Jack grinned and the scent of relief filled the room. Before he could speak, though, his smile faded into a slightly more serious expression. 

"I don't know what Sam and Dean have told you about me," he said in a quiet voice, "but I wasn't always… human." 

"They didn't say anything," Derek said. "They gave me a heads up about Castiel, but any time you came up, you were just 'Jack.'" 

That was the truth. Dean had alluded to him once being _more_ , but Derek didn't press for more information. A lot of supernaturals had secrets; Derek remembered his mother telling him to keep his questions to himself in diplomatic situations because it could be difficult to tell from the born and the made and being made could come with some uncomfortable baggage. He'd applied that lesson to his current situation. Of course, he noticed some similarities between Jack and Castiel, and he wondered, but he didn't ask any questions. 

When Jack registered that Derek was being honest, he smiled and nodded. "I like being just 'Jack,'" he said. "I was born a few years ago. Like this. But… more. I'm a nephilim. Or, I was. My _biological_ father stole my grace---my power. Left me human, basically." 

No stranger to familial betrayal, Derek frowned. He wanted to say something---something like _my uncle killed my sister for her power_ \---but he couldn't give voice to the words. He couldn't even ask _What is a nephilim, exactly?_ because his voice seemed to have dried up under the weight of the memory of finding Laura's body in the forest. 

Seemingly completely unaware of Derek's internal struggle, Jack continued talking. "It's fine. Usually. They've been teaching me how to fight and shoot. And I know Castiel will protect me as long as he is able to," he said. "I'm even learning how to 'rein in my angel weird,' as Charlie says when she's teaching me things I would have learned if I'd grown up the normal way." 

"Must be a lot, all at once," Derek commented. 

Jack nodded. "It is. But, I don't mind. I like learning." 

"I like learning, too," Derek said. 

"Is that why you're still here?" Jack asked. 

Smiling, Derek said, "That's some of it, yeah. Some of it… I got used to being on my own, travelling, and I don't want to go back to Beacon Hills yet." 

"Doesn't your pack miss you?" 

"Probably not," Derek replied. He snorted. "We've been through a lot together, but that doesn't automatically give us the same bond." 

"Then, you should find a pack where you can bond they way you need to," Jack suggested. 

Derek appreciated the simplicity in Jack's words. He smiled. "I might, some day. Right now, though, we have more important concerns," he said. "Like the hunters trying to kill us all. That takes priority." 

"Well, it makes sense that you'd want to stay on the road, then," Jack reasoned out loud. "You can get to where you need to be---to help---more quickly." 

"Are your questions about being a werewolf?" Derek asked, trying to keep his voice softer to ease the change of subject. 

Jack's brow furrowed. "Yes. More or less." 

"All right, hit me with them," he offered. 

"Have you ever turned someone?" Jack asked. 

Derek nodded, slowly. "I have," he replied. "I was just visiting one of mine, before I came here." 

"They're not in your pack?" 

"Sort of," Derek replied. "He's working with a counselor who travels from pack to pack. He's learning how to help people. Our lives aren't easy, just because we're stronger and can heal quickly." 

"Makes sense. That sounds like a great job, getting to help people like that. And to have someone you can tell the _truth_ to, without getting treated like you're crazy," Jack said, his eyes unfocused as if he were thinking aloud. "Would he---or the counselor---ever think about talking with me? Not because I'm in crisis. But, sometimes… I feel like I can't talk to anyone." 

Feeling a little emotionally out of his depth while wanting to do the right thing, Derek leaned forward and awkwardly put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I absolutely can, Jack. I don't know what their schedule is like, but I will reach out to them," he said. "Make sure I have your contact information before I leave, all right? If it's possible, we'll make it work. We're on the same team now, pretty much." 

Jack beamed at him. With a sharp spike of relief in his gut, Derek felt like he'd put together the right words. He knew Isaac would help---he was the one who disseminated so much information to packs and omegas about Scott's rescue network, with every place he visited for his internship. Even listening could be powerful, Isaac had told him, and he knew Isaac _needed_ to help others like them who survived trauma. He'd said as much during one of their visits. If Isaac could help, in any way, Derek knew he would. 

"Thank you, Derek," Jack murmured. 

"What else do you want to know?" Derek asked. 

Jack's next question took a while to be posed. Derek watched the internal struggle play out on his face with patience that still felt alien to him. He'd been quick to act for so long---on the run, on his own, then surrounded by a group of teenagers who drew trouble to themselves as if they craved it---that the calm he felt once he'd settled into his body and mind was more foreign than familiar, even though it was welcome. 

"Have you ever heard of… a werewolf turning someone who is---or was---something else?" 

"You want the bite?" Derek asked. 

Jack shrugged and mumbled, "I don't know." 

"Will you ever get your power back?" 

"Sometimes, it feels like it's coming back. But, it's so slow. I can't even move a pencil, when I used to be able to open portals to other realities," Jack replied. "I am enjoying the lessons. I like making my body stronger. It will never be enough to keep my family safe, though." 

"Do you think that's your job?" Derek asked. 

Jack shrugged. "It used to be. I didn't know much---about the world, about hunting, about angels---but I knew how to keep the people I trust safe." 

"You know, one member of our pack, he's completely human," Derek said. "And he's saved my life… well, I've lost count how many times. He's not a hunter, like Sam and Dean. He isn't a fighter---even though he's quick to defend anyone he cares about. He's a thinker."

Any darkness in Jack's expression faded under the realisation Derek presented to him. "Really?" 

Derek nodded. "Really. There are lots of ways to protect your pa---family, and they don't all need extra strength or power. Sounds like you're already on your way to building a new toolkit." 

Whatever remained of Jack's questions evaporated after that. Jack hugged him---apparently, Jack was a hugger---and bounced out of the room, buoyancy in his stride as well as in his hair. Derek watched him leave with an amused smile on his face. 

The smile disappeared when Castiel appeared in the doorway. 

"Hello." 

Derek nodded. "Hello," he replied. 

"Thank you, for saying what you said. To Jack," Castiel continued. "I see him struggling. But, it is difficult to reach him, to assure him that he is enough as he is." 

"I can imagine anyone aware of our kinds would feel that way," Derek reasoned. 

Castiel nodded. "I can imagine that as well." 

"There is someone I am going to contact, to see if they would be willing to talk with Jack---or to listen to him," Derek said. "It's up to him, obviously, but it might help to have a neutral party who won't require him to censor the supernatural from his story." 

Castiel nodded again. 

"I know the idea of turning him is unsettling," Derek added. 

"Yes," Castiel said. 

"Other werewolves won't consider the complexities of his situation---or even if it's necessary," Derek said. 

"You think he will petition another?" Castiel asked. 

Derek shrugged. "I don't think so, but I don't know. It might just be that once he realises he is contributing and protecting you all with what he's learning now… the curiosity will fade." 

"I hope you are right," Castiel said, nodding as he smoothed a hand down over his tie. "Not that I would know---" 

"I understand," Derek interrupted. He smiled a bit. "I get it. I feel the same way. I was born into this, so I don't really know any different, but I know it's not an adjustment everyone can make." 

Castiel nodded. He turned and disappeared without any other acknowledgement or departing words. Derek released a soft snort, tipping his head back against his chair. 

If he got caught up in any more impromptu therapy sessions, he was going to pack up and leave Kansas. He didn't know how Isaac managed to converse like that---well, better than that, he was sure---for an hour at a time. He had a whole new respect for the vocation Isaac wished to pursue. 

When Dean shouted that the chili was hot and the beer was cold, Derek rubbed a hand over his face, tossed his reading material aside, and left the quiet of his chosen reading room.

###

Side by side, Derek and Sam were washing the dishes. It was an amiable silence, something shared by people who were friendly with each other, but Derek still felt like shifting his weight from side to side. 

"I think… I think I'm going to go back the day after tomorrow," Derek said in a quiet voice. 

"You ready for that?" Sam asked. 

"Ready?" Derek asked in reply. 

Sam nodded as he scrubbed red sauce from the inside of a bowl. "Takes one to know one. You've been avoiding people," he said. "No judgements. We all need a time out every now and then. Just… don't force yourself to go back if you're not ready." 

"I grew up in a family pack. This life… is not the same," Derek admitted. 

"Makes sense. There's a shorthand with family, right? And you don't have to worry about people drifting in and out of your life as much," Sam said. 

Derek nodded, taking the bowl and rinsing it before drying it with a tea towel. "Something like that," he agreed. "It should be the same, though. Pack is pack. But… it isn't. And I can't explain why it's different." 

Sam shrugged. "You grew up the way you are. With people who, I'm assuming, grew up the same way. That's got to be fundamentally different than someone who was bitten. Everything from instinct and control to your perspective on the world... it would be different. Even slightly." 

The fact that Sam could understand _and_ put the issue into words boggled Derek's mind. He must have been staring at Sam, because after a pause, Sam smiled. "Don't look so surprised. I have a brain between my ears." 

"I knew that," Derek muttered after nudging Sam with his shoulder. "I just... didn't expect you to get it. And explain it to me so I could get it." 

"You're not the only one to grow up in a different cultural setting," Sam reminded him. 

With that information, Sam's insight made more sense. Derek supposed that hunting for so long, studying the rogues they tracked, and staying alive gave Sam an edge to understanding werewolves and other creatures, too. 

He opened his mouth to say something and was cut off by the buzzing of his phone. 

Once he'd dropped the towel on the counter, Derek fished the vibrating device out of his pocket. Isaac's current alias and his picture were on the screen. He smiled as he swiped his finger along its surface and answered the call. Before anyone could say anything, he put the call on the phone's speaker so he could continue helping Sam with the dishes. 

"Isaac?" Derek asked. "Everything okay?" 

_"You always answer the phone like that now,"_ Isaac said in reply. _"And I can't tell how anxious you smell from here."_

_"Man, he smells like rain on the forest floor, calm and cool and steady, am I right?"_ Stiles chimed in before Derek could respond. 

Sam snorted. Derek looked at him as he picked up the next bowl and muttered, "The comedic stylings of Isaac and, well, Stiles." 

When Sam chuckled, a rough scrape of laughter, Stiles must have heard him. _"Hey, friend of Derek. You're real!"_

"You have imaginary friends?" Sam asked Derek. 

"I do know a couple zanna, but we didn't… hit it off." 

With a smirk, Sam asked, "Too serious for them, huh?"

"They're ridiculous!" Derek muttered. 

_"The peanut gallery would like to know who you're talking about,"_ Stiles said. 

"Zanna," Sam replied. "There are actual beings. They help kids. They can't be seen by anyone, usually, except for the kid they're helping. They're probably every kid's imaginary friend, if there are that many still in the world." 

_"Wait. Imaginary friends are really real?"_ Isaac asked. 

_"Did you?"_ Stiles asked. 

_"Yes!"_ Isaac exclaimed. _"I can't… I can't wrap my head around this. Slimey is real?!"_

"Probably," Sam replied. "If it helps, I had one, too. His name was Sully. I met him again a few years ago when he and his friends needed some help." 

_"My mind has been blown. I didn't that that was possible after everything that's happened,"_ Stiles said as Isaac laughed a little. _"Der Bear, I can't believe you didn't tell us about these people."_

"You never asked," Derek replied. 

_"You're lucky I'm not there to… to… shove you ineffectually."_

Derek felt his lips curving into a smile without his permission, remembering all the times Stiles confronted him even when he was scared, even when Derek had been surly and probably terrifying to someone newly dropped in the supernatural world. 

"Hey, guys, not that I'm not glad to hear from both of you, but is there a reason why you're calling?" 

_"Actually, yes, there is, Mister Scowly-scowl,"_ Stiles said. _"You're still in Kansas and as members of the Derek Hale Fan Club, we find that strange."_

"Maybe we're just really great company," Sam reasoned. 

_"I will have to judge that for myself before I can give a final ruling, but I doubt that's it, Derek's friend,"_ Stiles said. 

Isaac chuckled, cleared his throat, and then said Derek's name. When Derek responded with a grunt, Isaac spoke. _"Is there something you want to talk about? I'd do it, of course, but I could also get Doctor---"_

"Isaac, I'm fine," Derek interrupted. "I get you guys are worried, but you know I was on my own for over a year, right? Nothing was wrong then. And nothing is wrong now. I just need to get away sometimes." 

_"Derek's friend, you wouldn't happen to have super-hearing, would you?"_ Stiles asked. _"Because, if you do, telling us if his heart rate changed there would be really helpful."_

Instead of using his words, Derek growled low in his throat and ended on a snarl. Everyone involved in the conversation chuckled. 

"You don't need super-hearing to hear that," Sam commented. He put a suds-damp hand on Derek's arm and squeezed. "Guys? I know you don't know me, and you can't smell me or whatever, but my name is Sam and I am Derek's friend. And he's safe here, if that's your main concern." 

_"It's not, but it helps,"_ Isaac said. _"You're one of the hunters Chris brought on to help, right?"_

"Yeah," Sam replied. "We're fully on board with the plan to help." 

Isaac made a quiet noise that fell somewhere between relief and pleasure. Derek assumed it was because Sam's words were so much like those to which Allison and Argent adhered, after they redefined the code for their mission. 

"Isaac, I just need some time away," Derek said in a gentle tone he used when Isaac was struggling under the crushing weight of memories. "I'm not leaving the pack. I'm not leaving you. Or Stiles. I wouldn't do that. And I definitely wouldn't do anything drastic without telling you both. But, there's nothing to tell because I wouldn't do that. I just wanted to get away. And I am going back. Probably the day after tomorrow."

 _"Promise?"_ Isaac asked. 

"I promise," Derek said, feeling a warm weight settling in his chest at the words. "Do you want me to call you when I'm on my way back?" 

_"No, I trust you,"_ Isaac said. 

Derek started to reach for the next dish to dry. When he heard Dean approaching the kitchen, though, talking under his breath to someone he called Jody, he stopped and turned around. 

"Hang on, guys," Sam said. 

Dean appeared in the doorway. He smiled briefly, and almost wearily, and said, "Oh, good, you're here. Jody's got one of yours at her place. She needs help." 

"Who?" Derek asked. 

"Jody, what's her name again?" Dean said into the phone. He looked back at Derek. "She says her name is Malia. Donna found her, brought her to Sioux Falls when she mentioned us." 

As Isaac and Stiles started asking questions about Malia, Derek forced himself to remain as calm as he could. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and asked, "Is she---" 

"She's fine. A little banged up, but healing. Claire's there, too, now," Dean interrupted. "She's got three tough-as-nails hunters watching her. She wanted to head back right away, but Jody convinced her to stay and rest." 

After exhaling a long, slow breath, Derek nodded. "Okay… okay, good. Can I talk to her?" 

Dean turned his focus back to the phone in his hand. "Jody? Derek wants to talk to her, is she there?" 

When Dean held out the phone and pushed on the screen, Malia's voice filled the room. _"Derek? It's me. I'm okay. Pissed as hell, but okay,"_ she said. 

Isaac and Stiles gave voice to their relief. 

_"How are they with you?"_ Malia asked. _"I thought you were with the good hunters."_

"They're on speakerphone. Giving me grief about my… vacation," Derek replied. 

Malia snorted. _"Of course they---"_

"Is that why you were headed this way?" Derek asked. "To come after me?" 

_"Don't think so highly of yourself, Der Bear,"_ Malia replied, earning a couple barked laughs from Isaac and Stiles and a groan from Derek. _"Argent and I were scouting a big hunter gathering. He got out fine---I talked to him. I managed to trip some sort of wolfsbane trap. If it wasn't for Donna… well, I like to think I would've escaped eventually, but who knows."_

"I'm coming to you tonight," Derek said. "We'll go back together." 

_"Chill out, okay? I know you like to go all big brother-y, but I'm fine."_

They weren't siblings. They were cousins, though. Despite Malia only having a tenuous bond with Peter, she and Derek were still blood---beyond the bond of Scott's pack---and he was still concerned about her. He'd already catalogued where all his possessions were and figured out how quickly he could gather them into his duffel bag. He knew it wouldn't take that long to get back onto the highway; he knew he could probably get to her within a day, depending on how far away she was located. 

"You sure you're good?" Derek asked. 

_"We're having a slumber party, with weapons and everything, just in case I'm not,"_ she replied. 

"That doesn't make me feel better." 

Malia said, _"It makes me feel better."_

When Derek looked to Sam, a series of questions on his tongue, Sam gave him answers before he could even start posing them. "Jody, Donna, and Claire are good people---and great hunters. And they're only about five hours away from here," Sam said. "You can head out before dawn if you want. Get some rest, we'll load you up with supplies, and you can go knowing you're ready for anything." 

Derek nodded. "Malia, you hear all that?" he asked. 

_"I'll see you tomorrow,"_ she said. _"Thanks, Derek. And byeeee to Isaac and Stiles! I will call you tomorrow!"_

 _"Send us pictures of your slumber party!"_ Isaac called back at her, one phone to another. 

"Priorities, man," Dean agreed when he took his phone back from Derek. 

Derek smiled and shook his head slightly; he grew up in a big family complete with sisters and he knew there was nothing happening at a slumber party he wanted to witness. 

"Isaac, Stiles… are you guys still there?" Derek asked. 

_"You bet, buddy,"_ Stiles replied. _"Guess you're heading out in the morning, all calvary style?"_

"Sounds like it's more like 'taxi service style,'" Derek commented. 

_"Gonna call Scott?"_ Stiles asked. 

"I'll text him when I get Malia, let him know we're on our way back," Derek said. "You want me to text you guys, too?" 

_"Yes, please,"_ Isaac responded. _"We want to know you're safe. Both of you."_

"All right. Thank you. Both of you," Derek said, before ending his side of the call and reaching for another one of the dishes Sam had washed. 

Behind them, Derek could hear Dean moving to the fridge and taking out a bottle of beer. No one said anything for a little while; the kitchen was full of sounds, though, and it was steadying in a way that conversation couldn't be. 

Sam broke the quiet first. After draining his side of the sink, he wiped his hands and looked at Derek. "You okay?" he asked. "With heading out earlier than you planned, I mean." 

He nodded and finished drying the last dish. "Yeah. Can't stay away forever. If only because Stiles would keep calling to torment me. And Isaac would call to give me long distance puppy dog eyes." 

With a smile, Sam nodded. "Just remember they do it because they care." 

Derek was sure the end of that sentence should have been _about the pack,_ but he tried not to think about that. He focused on the task in his hands until he couldn't anymore. When he turned back around, he found Dean holding out two bottles of opened beer in his free hand. Sam took them both, passing one to Derek on his way to the barstools at the countertop. 

"So, is Malia… your sister?" Dean asked. 

Shaking his head, Derek replied, "Cousin, biologically. We're still working out what we are to each other. Acquaintances, probably, right now." 

"You didn't grow up together?" Sam asked. 

"Didn't even know she was a relative until a couple years ago," Derek admitted. "My mother took my uncle's memories of her away, to keep her safe from her mother." 

"From your grandmother?" 

"No, from Malia's mother," Derek said, looking to Dean. "She was… well. She didn't want to be a mother---in any sense of the word. But, Peter… he would have looked for her, even after Mom hid her away and arranged her adoption. And Peter wouldn't have been discrete. He would have brought Malia's mother to her crib." 

Dean swallowed a mouthful of beer before asking, "She found out? Malia, I mean?" 

"Yeah. There was a thing… a deadpool. Her name ended up on the list. With our name as her family name. Cat was out of the bag then," Derek replied. "They're… figuring things out." 

"Family's tough," Sam said. 

Dean swatted at Sam's shoulder. "Hey! I'm a joy to be around!" 

Sam grinned at him over his amber-coloured bottle. "Yes, you are," he agreed, his tone a little too accommodating to be considered anything other than teasing. 

For a moment, Derek felt the hollow sensation that came when missing his own family was sharp in his mind. It wasn't just his family he was missing, though, as memories of watching Scott and Stiles roughhouse over a video game win (and loss), of Malia giving Liam and Mason a hard time, of the group flopped onto whatever soft surfaces were in the room when they were relaxing together. 

He knew it was time to go back---or, at least, take a step in that direction.

###

As soon as he parked in the driveway, Derek was out of his car and moving towards the door. He may have rushed; he wouldn't admit to that in a court of law if asked and he definitely wouldn't admit it to Malia. 

A striking brunette with wary eyes opened the door before he could knock. "May I help you?" 

"I'm Derek Hale. I think Malia's expecting me?" 

The wariness melted away into a much warmer expression. "It's good to meet you. Sam and Dean have had nothing but positive things to say about you, so I'm glad to finally put a face to the name," she said. "I'm Jody Mills. You wanna come in while Malia finishes getting ready?" 

"Yes, please," Derek said, nodding. 

Jody stepped back so he could walk into her home. The scents of coffee and cinnamon reached his nose. He smiled a bit at her as he stepped inside, looking and listening around the house as he did. 

One heartbeat was close, perhaps in the kitchen. Two were down a hall, probably in a bedroom. Coffee was brewing. Bread was toasting. Eggs were cooking. The cinnamon scent came closer, his only warning before Jody put a hand on his upper arm. 

"How was the drive?" she asked. 

"Uneventful, thankfully," he said. 

"Good," Jody responded. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure, that sounds great." 

Following Jody into the kitchen brought him to another stranger. She was blonde, just as beautiful as Jody but in a different, softer way, and she smelled like lemongrass. When she smiled, she made Derek feel warmer than he already was, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling back at her. 

"You must be Derek," she said, extending her free hand as she cradled her mug of coffee close. "I'm Donna."

"It's nice to meet you," Derek said. He shook her hand and smiled. "Thank you, both, for keeping Malia safe." 

"I'm just glad I was out on patrol," Donna said. "And that we were able to get here without any trouble." 

Jody smiled at him as she grabbed another mug from the carousel on her counter. "It's just another day in Sioux Falls, for me," she said. 

"You found her, Donna?" Derek asked. He didn't want to know why protecting a werewolf was a regular occurence; he didn't want to know what else they considered to be normal. "Was there anything at the scene---" 

"Just a bleeding werecoyote," Donna interrupted. She shrugged. "Malia said there was a sour smell in the area and that she'd recognise it if she ever smelled it again. But, I didn't see any cigarette butts or even bootprints." 

Derek nodded and took the cup of coffee Jody offered him. She pointed to the counter. "Cream and sugar if you want it," she offered. 

"No, thanks. This is perfect." 

She nodded. "All right. Well, let me get these breakfast sandwiches together while Malia and Claire are doing their best zombie impersonations," she said. 

"Can I help?" Derek asked. 

"How are you with buttering english muffins?" Jody asked, her eyes scrunched a little in mirth. 

"I… think I can handle that." 

She chuckled and pointed him to a section of countertop. They worked in silence; they surprised Derek because he'd assumed he'd have to answer questions about being a werewolf or about the hunters. Instead, they didn't even seem curious about him or his mission---at all. 

"Look at you, being all domesticated." 

Derek turned as he spread butter on the last half of the last english muffin, to see Malia and a blonde girl of roughly the same age coming into the kitchen. 

"I do know how to cook," Derek replied. After setting down the knife, he crossed the room so he could get a better look at Malia. "How are you?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Did the hunters do anything---" 

"Easy, big fella," Malia interrupted. She smiled. "All that happened was I got stuck in a bear trap. Or were trap, I guess, since the teeth were coated in wolfsbane. Donna helped. I'm good. The wounds healed." 

"You burned it all out?" Derek asked. 

She nodded. "Easy peasy. Or… well. As easy as it can be, I guess." 

"No more pain?" 

"Nope. I'm good." 

Derek frowned. "And why did Argent leave you behind?" 

"He didn't. He just didn't realise I wasn't heading back until he was already on the highway," Malia said. "I spoke with him again. He knows I'm coming back with you, so he kept going. He'll meet us somewhere along the way." 

Derek growled under his breath. Not always the best judge of human behavior, but somehow figuring it out that time, Malia slipped closer and wrapped her arms around Derek's shoulders. Since she dislodged his hands from her shoulders, he fumbled for a moment before wrapping his arms around her body. 

"I'm okay," she murmured. "I'm really okay. The hunters didn't get me, not even for a minute. Donna got me to safety." 

"I'm really glad," Derek whispered. 

With a smile, she slipped out of his grasp and moved towards Claire. "Claire, this is my grumpy, worrywart cousin, Derek," she said. She lightly punched Derek in the shoulder. "Der, this is Claire, badass hunter and wicked playlist maker." 

Derek scowled at Malia but managed to turn a polite smile and nod to Claire. She smirked and said, "I set up a great playlist on Malia's phone for your drive back to the packlands." 

"Driver picks the music," Derek replied. 

Claire rolled her eyes. "Don't channel Dean, dumbass." 

"Claire, don't call our guest a dumbass," Jody scolded. 

"Okay, okay, but it's a stupid rule. 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole, Claire,'" she said, her voice lowering to do what Derek guessed was an impression of Dean. 

Derek smirked. "I like Dean even more now," he joked. 

"Boys and their cars---and their car stereos," Claire said on a sigh. 

"I know, right?" Malia replied. After a grin to Derek, she walked over to Donna and Jody. "So, anything I can do?" she asked them both. 

"Nope, we're just about done here," Jody replied. "Claire, can you grab the to-go cups from the pantry for our fave werecoyote and her werewolf cousin? We'll fill them up right before they leave." 

"Sure," Claire chirped, moving around Derek and towards the pantry cupboards.

Malia moved back to Derek's side. After leaning her weight into his side, she smiled. He looked at her, wondering what she was doing. 

"Your vacation… was good?" 

Derek nodded. "Yeah." 

"Stiles wondered if you were gonna go native." 

After a snort, he said, "No, that wasn't what he was wondering." 

"No, it wasn't," Malia agreed. "You work it all out?" 

"No, but I'm okay with that," Derek replied. 

Even though the expression in her face was much more scrutinizing, Malia shrugged in reply and moved away from him after delivering a little nudge. She left Derek wondering what she was thinking, what she'd taken from his responses. As flippant as Malia could be, she could also be surprisingly insightful. She could be growling about someone eating all of the good cookies and then she'd hug that someone and ask them what she could do to make them feel better, correctly interpreting that they'd been trying to eat their feelings. 

"All right, kiddos," Jody said. "We've wrapped and packed enough breakfast and leftovers to hold you over for a few miles, anyway, so---" 

"Sit down and let me get started making the french toast," Claire insisted. "When's Alex coming home?" 

"Patience is picking her up after work," Donna said, rolling with the abrupt change of subject. "Those two and their night shifts…" 

Derek tried to remember if Dean and Sam had said anything about two more people living in that house, but there had been so many names and faces and more names and stories that Derek couldn't remember if he'd heard Patience and Alex in conversation before that moment. 

Before he could say anything, Claire nudged him. "We're kind of like a home for wayward girls here," she explained. "Alex was on her own, Jody took her in. I was on my own, and about to go nuclear, and Jody took me in. Patience came after that." 

"And I pop in to co-parent from time to time," Donna joked. 

Derek smiled at her, as well as at the realisation that they'd formed their own little human pack. One of the things he didn't understand about people was their tendency to be alone---to seek solitude. He'd been alone, he'd pushed people away---but he'd never _wanted_ to be one, separate from the world. Growing up the way he did, in a family pack, he knew he needed others. That need had driven him to make a pack as quickly as he could, even though it hadn't gone too well for anyone involved. When people bound together, much like the little mixed-species pack Scott formed in Beacon Hills, it warmed his heart---even when he wasn't a part of the group. 

"That is… really great," Derek said. "You've formed a pack." 

"That's what I said!" Malia commented as she went to the fridge and pulled out another carton of eggs. "It is like they're a pack of fierce ladies. Less terrifying than the Skinwalkers, but still pretty badass." 

"The Skinwalkers?" Claire asked. 

"A group of female shapeshifters… in the desert," Derek said, deliberately keeping the details of their location to himself. 

He knew Malia was probably aware of their location, since Scott had rescued Kira and Noshiko from them once, according to Stiles during one of their long catch-Derek-up-on-everything-he-missed conversations; he knew where they were because his mother had told him and Laura where they could be most easily found, since as her two oldest children they were the most likely to oversee the pack after her eventual passing, they might need to bargain with the warriors at some point. As much as he trusted Sam and Dean and the few people in their inner circle, he didn't feel comfortable giving away their location. 

"They've got serious power," Malia said. "Can practically smell it off them." 

Derek caught the sound of someone's heart beating more quickly and added, "They don't hunt humans. They… they're all about balance. Laws of nature. Sometimes, they will help train another werewolf---or other being---who can't keep control. Sometimes, they will take a person into their pack. They… aren't gods. But, they kind of… watch over us, in a weird and very distant way." 

"A friend is training with them," Malia said. 

"When will she be done?" Claire asked. 

Malia shrugged. "When she's finished training." 

As Malia moved away from him, Derek put his hand on her back, between her shoulders. She didn't sound or feel sad to him, but he knew she wasn't _thrilled_ that one of their pack was gone. Derek suspected there was something more to her feelings on the matter, something Scott-shaped on the subject of Kira, because of their twisted-up-and-together history, but he wasn't going to say anything in front of the women. 

He probably wasn't going to say anything, anyway, because of all the people in their group he was the least qualified to offer any sort of relationship advice. 

Claire and Malia took over the kitchen duties and Donna moved Derek towards Jody and the table. With their coffees in hand, they all sat down together, making small talk for a few minutes before other subjects rose to the surface. 

"How are the boys?" Donna asked. 

"Good, I think," Derek said. "It was nice to see them… when we aren't trying to keep the hunters from killing someone, I mean. And to meet some of their pa---people, too." 

"Cas and Jack?" Jody asked. 

Derek nodded. "And Charlie. And Bobby." 

Jody's eyes widened. Before Donna or Derek could say or do anything, she cleared her throat of what had to be an emotional lump and shook her head. 

"He's not the same Bobby," Jody said. "I… I haven't been back to the bunker since meeting him. It's… strange." 

"You two were close," Derek said. 

Jody nodded. She smiled a bit. "He lived here. A few miles away. I thought he was a crazy drunk for years, just out to make trouble. From the moment I became a deputy, I was hauling him into the station for one offence or another. At least once every couple weeks." 

"And then… he saved your life." 

"Well, it was Sam and Dean, really, but yeah, Bobby, too," she agreed. Her smile stretched. "He taught me the basics, got me into more trouble than I thought I could handle, and saved my ass a few more times for good measure. He was… a good guy." 

Derek tilted his head. "That seems to be the general consensus." 

"This new Bobby… there are glimpses. Similarities. But… he's not the same," Jody said. 

"I can't imagine how hard it is," Derek said over the mug of coffee cradled in his hands. "When Sam and Dean explained the situation… I wondered about my family. If there'd been a chance they could have survived in that world. But, Charlie made it sound like the supernaturals didn't stand much of a chance when the angels took over, so." 

"But, there could be another version of the world where they're all happy and healthy and together," Donna said. "Maybe another version of you is with them." 

"I hope so," Derek replied. He sighed. "Still. My point… I don't know how I'd react if another version of them was here, suddenly. They'd smell like them, sound like them… but it wouldn't be them. It would be right and wrong at the same." 

Jody tilted her head to one side. "Yeah. That's how this feels. It's him… and it's not him." 

"What's Charlie like?" Donna asked. 

"Crazy." 

She laughed at Derek's brief assessment. He wasn't about to get into how she seemed to perceive the lay of the land between Bobby and Sam and Dean and the other-world people better than anyone, how Dean and Sam struggled (and failed) to not treat her like the little sister they'd considered their version of her, or how she somehow suckered him into letting her paint his toes green. 

"She'd have to be, to put up with the boys," Donna said. "She's the only one who decided to live at the bunker, after all the excitement." 

"And probably the only one welcome there, full time," Jody added. "Dean wasn't the same after she got killed. In our world. They probably feel like they have a second chance." 

"Makes sense," Derek said. "She seems to be settling in fine. Most of the others were with… Mary? I guess she and Bobby were taking them to see the sights. Some wanted to go to a water park wherever they ended up, but Bobby took a few back with him." 

Donna made a soft, pleasant sound as she sipped from her mug of coffee. "I'd want to travel a bit, too, have some fun, if I came from a world like that---and had to deal with Michael again," she reasoned after swallowing. "Gosh, it must be tough, though, right? Going from being a soldier twenty-four-seven and then thinking you're safe only to have another war to fight and then, what… vacation time?" 

Having a bit of experience in being on edge, plagued with survivor's guilt, and fighting battles against enemies left and right with no end in sight, Derek nodded. "Yes, it sounds tough." 

Before anyone could say anything else, Claire approached the table with a platter of french toast and the front door opened to let two young women stumble inside. 

"Welcome back, girls," Jody called out. "Come here and get something to eat before you crash for the day." 

Both of them grinned---tiredly, but still happily---and they made their way to the table as they shed their outer layers. Jody introduced them to Derek; Alex was wearing scrubs and the scent of a long night at the hospital and Patience bore a stiffness in her body language he'd seen in others who didn't know who they could trust. 

"Nice to meet you both," Derek said, hoping to put Patience at ease. 

"You're here for Malia?" Alex asked. 

Derek nodded. "Yeah, we're going to head back to California today." 

"It's safe?" she asked. 

"Probably," Malia said as she came in with another plate of french toast slices. She slid them over onto the platter with the rest. "Claire, there's a bit more egg, but---" 

"We're fine for now, as long as nothing's cooking," Jody interrupted. "Pull up a chair, Malia. I know I packed you guys a goodie basket, but there's no sense in leaving on an empty stomach." 

As soon as they'd all settled in and started sharing the food, Derek marvelled at how he hadn't noticed the similarities between Jody and his mother before that moment. It wasn't that Jody and Talia shared similarities in appearance; they were both beautiful brunettes, and that was as far as the resemblance could go. Talia had been taller, had longer hair, and a darker complexion. But, their likeness existed in the qualities that couldn't be as easily catalogued: a strong spine, the need to mother, a quiet power to which others deferred. 

He smiled as Jody asked Alex about her night---and then Patience about hers, too. She listened and responded, she absorbed what they were telling her. She commiserated when it was required; she praised when they needed and deserved it. Her laugh made her adopted children grin, as if it tickled them. 

Jody was their alpha and she wore it gracefully. She served the group so they could serve the pack---the family. She served the same way Talia had served the Hales. 

When they finished the meal, Jody started gathering the plates and cutlery. Derek helped, brushing off Donna's insistence that he stay at the table. Partly because he couldn't sit back and let their pack's alpha do all the work, and partly because it was a long-buried habit to help like that when he'd lived in his mother's house. Jody thanked him, squeezing his arm again, and he tried to brush off the way his blood warmed his face in reaction. 

He knew he shouldn't be bonding with hunters---like Sam, Dean, _and_ Jody---but he couldn't help it. There was something in them, in their behavior and personalities, that resonated with whatever was left in him. 

By the time he'd given himself a stern mental shake and pieced himself back together, Malia was pouring coffee into their cups and telling him to grab the cooler bag. 

"I'll carry the precious cargo, you do the heavy lifting," she said. 

Derek smiled at her. He was still smiling when he went back to the table and thanked them all for their hospitality and their care of Malia. 

"It's no problem," Jody replied. "Who knows where we'll end up in the future, y'know? Might need you to bail one of us out some day." 

"I hope not, but any time you need help, don't hesitate to get in touch," Derek said. "You've traded numbers with Malia, I'm guessing?" 

Claire held up her phone. "We're all set." 

Jody, Donna, and Claire followed Malia and Derek outside into the driveway. The conversation wasn't stilted, but it wasn't deep or meaningful. Donna and Jody were sharing their best routes out of the state with Derek; Claire and Malia were discussing something else, disconnected from them. When Malia and Claire bumped fists, while murmuring promises to text regularly, Derek found himself being hugged by Donna before his senses caught up with reality. 

Once he did catch up, though, he tucked his face into Donna's shoulder and scented her as thoroughly as he could. She smelled of lemongrass and petrichor and the same hint of gunpowder he'd scented on Sam and Dean---although theirs was mixed with paper and spice, and whiskey and leather, respectively. He committed her to his memory, expanding his sense of _safety_ and _pack_ to include her, too. 

"You take care now," she said. "It's my day off, so I can totally come save you if you get into trouble, but I'm back in Stillwater tomorrow, so---" 

"So, we just have to get into trouble today, then," Derek said, feeling a little more lighthearted after Donna's affectionate squeeze. 

"That's the spirit," Jody teased. 

Derek smiled at her. "Thank you, again. Both of you." 

"That's enough of that," Jody murmured. She leaned a little closer to him and asked, "Are we up to hugging, too?" 

"I'm game if you are," Derek replied. 

As she lifted herself up onto the balls of her feet and opened her arms, Jody grinned at him. Derek accepted the hug, curving his arms around her body. After the fire, he'd denied himself physical closeness because he felt like he didn't deserve it anymore. After turning Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, he'd given them the bare minimum of what they needed to form a pack. After his year alone, he'd learned that it wasn't everybody he wanted to keep at arm's length. Jody and Donna were welcome additions to the small circle of people he could let into his personal space. He wasn't sure about Claire, yet, but he also had a sense that she had her own strict rules for physical contact. 

Beneath the warm cinnamon and coffee scents Derek could easily discern, Jody had something closer to oil on her skin. It could have been gun oil, but Derek wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He liked it. The combination of scents suited her. 

"You, Mister Hale, give good hugs," Jody commented as they slid apart. "Is that a special skill or something all werewolves are good at?" 

Derek snorted and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we tend to be more tactile, generally," he said. "We don't all laze around in puppy piles---not everyone's comfortable with that---but touch is another way we communicate." 

"No complaints from me," Jody said, smiling. 

Donna hummed thoughtfully, before grinning. "A puppy pile sounds cosy," she said. 

"You have no idea," Malia gushed. "Best sleep ever. Way better than my den in the forest." 

Remembering the days when he and his family would curl up on the plush rug in their den to watch movies, humans and werewolves all together, Derek nodded. "It can be," he said. He smirked. "If you guys ever want to give it a try, let us know." 

"You're on," Donna replied. 

Jody arched a suspicious eyebrow. "With the college kids?" 

"Or just the two of us," Malia suggested. "We can full-shift." 

"Into cuddling coyotes?" Jody teased. 

Malia snorted. "Not usually. But, Der Bear's super comfycosy as a wolf, and I could be tempted if there are ear scritches." 

"That… would be an experience," Jody conceded. 

"Beacon Hills hospitality," Derek said. When Jody snorted and Donna laughed, he smiled. "C'mon, Malia. Let's get out of here and back to the pack." 

Without any further delay, they got into Derek's car. As soon as he started the engine, the trio of hunters started waving and didn't stop until Derek had navigated the vehicle onto the street and away from the house. As soon as they were on the highway, Malia released a long, low sigh. 

"Rough night?" Derek asked. "Are you still hurt?" 

"I'm fine. It could've been a lot worse," she replied. She rolled her head towards him. "Just… sometimes it's exhausting, trying to be more normal." 

"You are perfectly fine the way you are," Derek said. 

"I know." 

Derek smiled. "Then, why---" 

"Claire was bitten once," Malia interrupted. "There was a cure. A total experiment. It could've completely killed her." 

"And now she hunts a lot of our kind?" Derek asked. 

"Rogues and omegas, yeah. But… I think… she got a glimpse of what we can be like. And it scares her," Malia said. "Or, I scared her, when Donna first brought me in. Anyway. Scott doesn't like it when I… listen more to my coyote side than my human side, especially around our allies, and with the pain and the healing and exhaustion, I might have freaked her out a bit in the beginning." 

Ignoring his irritation at Malia's interpretation of Scott's behavior---because Malia would be able to pick up on that if he dwelled and had a physiological response---Derek decided to focus on what he had seen that morning. 

"She seemed perfectly fine with you, as far as I could tell," he said. "I'm assuming suspicious and cagey are probably part of her default mood. She looks like she's been through something heavy." 

"Yeah, I thought that, too," Malia said. 

"Takes one to know one," Derek murmured. 

She nodded. "Pretty much." 

"Anyway. I think you did okay. Maybe once you two text and whatever, over time, it'll get easier. Maybe she'll even come for a puppy pile," Derek said, glancing at her and grinning. 

"I don't think either of us will want to intrude on your little threesome." 

Derek snorted. "Who? Seriously? You think I'd just---with both of them?" 

"You're not interested?" 

He shook his head. "That wasn't the point of the invite. And it certainly wouldn't be if I were a wolf." 

"Oh, c'mon. They're very attractive. And you like dangerous women." 

In response, Derek took his eyes off the road and glared at her for a moment. 

"You don't want to---" 

Focused on his driving again, Derek shook his head again. "Nope." 

"But---" 

"Malia." 

"Either of them?" 

"They are a part of Sam's family. So, no." 

"But if they weren't?" Malia asked. 

Because he knew Malia would pick at this subject all the way back to California if he continued to evade to the best of his abilities, Derek decided to admit to a bit of the truth. "They remind me of some of my pack. From before," he said. "They're not on my radar in _that_ way." 

"Ohhh. Like, your own family?" 

Derek nodded. 

Malia drummed her fingers against her knees. "Okay. Well. That, I get. Okay. So, just cuddles, then. Would it be weird if I join you in this hypothetical den?" 

"I think it would be weirder if you didn't, since you know them better than I do," Derek replied. 

She smiled and relaxed into her seat. "Cool. I should probably practice turning into a coyote again." 

"We could ask Peter, too," Derek suggested, gauging Malia's reaction to the mention of her biological father. "He might… remember how we used to get together." 

"Before my time?" Malia asked. 

He nodded. "Yeah. He complained and swore he'd never be there, but he always showed up. Mom would roll her eyes and he would roll his right back---usually right before curling up on her other side with one or five of the kids." 

"Hard to picture," Malia said. 

Derek nodded, even though it wasn't difficult for him to imagine because he could remember it. He could still hear his parents whispering with Peter when they thought all the children were sleeping, discussing plans for the future, for the pack, as well as the bits of Beacon Hills gossip they'd overheard. He could still remember how safe he felt, surrounded by them and any of the others who had been invited to join the Hale pack. 

"Of course, there's a very good chance he would hit on them. And I don't want to see that," Malia added. 

Derek snorted. "I don't want to see that, either, truthfully." 

"Just us, then. And maybe Peter the next time. If he promises to be on his best behavior." 

"Sounds good," Derek agreed. 

"Want more breakfast?" Malia asked. "Those waffles were delicious, but they were not filling enough." 

Used to her whiplash-inducing subject changes, Derek rolled with her choice of topics easily. He glanced over at her and smiled as he said, "Definitely. Open up the cooler bag and pass me a sandwich." 

Derek listened as Malia inhaled deeply, almost purring a little as she exhaled. When she didn't immediately pass him one of the little bundles, he snorted and asked, "You two want to be alone?" 

"Maybe." 

He chuckled and accepted the sandwich she thrust in his direction. He knew he should've felt a little guilty that he didn't immediately contact Beacon Hills; he did feel guilty that he hadn't told Isaac and Stiles that they'd left Sioux Falls. But, Malia was right---the waffles hadn't been very filling for anyone with a therianthrope's metabolism---so he did his best to ignore the twinges he felt in his gut. 

As soon as they finished devouring some---or all, to be honest---of their packed meal, Derek would reach out to Isaac and Stiles. And if he could convince Malia to be the one to inform Scott or Liam of their departure, that would solve all his problems _and_ keep the irritating itch he'd come to associate with Beacon Hills at bay for a little while longer.


End file.
